Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot. ― Charlie Chaplin Scalloped pink-velvet rises, Dolby surrounds and amplifies Widescreen expands, the trailers begin, children prattle, folks shuffle, couples conjoin in love-seats, and the stranger in C7 is not alone. Film classification approved as the whistling subsides; stars reflect in starry eyes all looking heavenward. Lumières' light flickers faces, slowing expressions to a comic strip, and popcorn autopilot is motion-captured in half-darkness. Reels turn over to relay epic lives on display in moments of dramatic delusion held in collective illusion, suspended somewhere between art and life, wake and dream. The audience wears ancient masks as waves of laughter break, followed by teary farewells; expressions crested upside down. THE END. Waking to the wider world its stories within stories, tales are told, shared, passed on, retelling ourselves into legend. Her story, his story, Unified in all camera angles. Suzanne Fairless-Aitken Orson Welles, 'Ribbon of Dreams' in International Film Annual no. 2 (1958)
